There's been much feeble posturing and far-too-late huffing and puffing about the fate of Akmal Shaikh, executed on Tuesday for drug smuggling in China.

According to his family, the unfortunate man was 'duped' into carrying the drugs.

Well, that's possible. But a claim like that loses its potency when you remember that every single drug smuggler in history has claimed exactly the same. "Some people asked me to carry something for them - I didn't know it was drugs". Yeah, right.

And then there's the second claim, the great 21st century catch-all, dodge-the-blame statement: the perpetrator was suffering from mental illness. "Yes, he did commit the crime, but he's not right in the head, so he mustn't be punished". This particular get-out-of-jail-free card is getting pretty tatty, and is played with tedious regularity. "Not my fault: I'm mmmmad"

Hmmmm. According to Foreign Office Ivan 'everyone else is on holiday' Lewis, the Government made 27 representations to China in the last two years. 27.

But in spite of that, a report from the official Chinese news agency Xinhua said that China's Supreme People's Court had "not been provided with any documentation proving that Mr Shaikh had a mental disorder".

And the Chinese Embassy said "As for his possible mental illness which has been much talked about, there apparently has been no previous medical record."

Sunny H at Liberal Conspiracy has a short bleat on the subject, but it's one of the comments there that caught CF's eye. Commenter Trofim claims to have had a career in psychiatry, and goes on to say:

".. I note that he was 53. A person with bi-polar disorder or schizophrenia would never reach the age of 53 without clinical intervention and would almost certainly have been hospitalised at least once.

He would certainly have been on some course of medication, but there is apparently no record of medical intervention at all.

He is said to have had hare-brained business ideas and unrealistic ideas about becoming a pop-star. But such people appear regularly on Dragons’ Den and the X-Factor. These are not necessarily evidence of mental illness."

Time to wind down for Christmas. Time to relax, be a bit less furious for a day or so, and enjoy the comforts of home. Lovely.

CF is very aware that he's in a highly privileged position. He's able to moan and bitch about how 'terrible' everything is, and the 'awful' state of the nation, and the 'misery' it causes, whilst sat on his well-fed arse in a warm house.

Many aren't that fortunate. Their lives really are terrible, awful, and miserable. They've got no money, or no roof, or no family.

Yes, there are a ton of scroungers, thieves and idle bastards out there. But for every one of them, there's some poor sod who's had a big dollop of shit luck; or whose job vanished; or who was damaged in war; or who's been fucked over by someone else; or who made some terrible choices; or whose partner thumped them once too often; or whose brain is just not wired right to survive the 21st Century.

Give one more Christmas present: donate online at the Shelter website. It'll make you feel better than giving any of that bloody tat you've bought and wrapped so far.

Fuck, CF is going all soft for the festive season. Don't worry, it won't last.

This time around, he and his spin doctors have managed to twist a few arms, make a few threats, call in a few favours, and ensure that poor, innocent Gordon won't have to answer any questions about Iraq until after the general election.

At which time, of course, he'll be a teacher, or a nun, or in a fucking asylum, and therefore under no obligation to even pretend to answer any question honestly. Honestly, why fucking bother?

Fraser Nelson over at the Spectator Coffee House is well aware of this, and has suggested a few little questions that should be put to Brown right fucking now, before he gets clean away.

You should read the full, unedited list, but some of CF's favourites (with his own extra emphases) that he'd just love to hear Brown try to mumble his way through include:

During the 2007 Tory Party conference you went to Iraq and said that 500 troops would be home by Christmas. This decision stunned the Ministry of Defence, and turned out to have been – how can we put this, Prime Minister – untrue. Can you explain why you made this claim, and why you decided not to clear it with the MoD?

In Jan.'08 you also told the House of Commons that violence in Basra has “gone down by 90 per cent over the past few months”. Can you give a source for this figure? Or was it in fact concocted, to conceal from parliament and the public the scale of the butchery that you were knowingly leaving behind? Given activity of the death squads then – so bad that the Iraqi army had to reinvade the city a year later – how could this have been true?

Can you explain the process by which troops make requests for extra resources? Is it the case that the military is instructed never to make a formal request that they know will be turned down, so the Prime Minister can mislead the public by saying he has accepted every resource request being made?

Did you raid the military accommodation refurbishment budget when the war started, rather then fund the war with fresh money required? Do you think it right to leave the families of servicemen to the type of squalor?

Until he resigned, Tony Blair would have weekly videoconference dicussions with George W Bush due to the seriousness of our joint involvement in Iraq. How many such discussions did you have?

What does the appointment of a low-ranking figure like Bob Ainsworth as Defence Secretary say about your opinion of the military?

So, come on MacCavity, let's be having you. Show some of that 'courage' you like to talk about.

Let's hear some answers, eh? Why not give us the truth, for the first time?

Peter Mandelson loves Universities. In fact, he seems obsessed with them. But not in a good way. More like a celebrity stalker, who feels that the lady newsreader would really enjoy his caresses, if she'd just let him try.

He just can't stop thinking about them, imagining what's best for them, what they should be doing.

Even though 'Education' is one of the few Government Departments he doesn't run, he can't resist tinkering, fiddling, sharing his views, sniping and directing from the sidelines.

And he's got some bad news for Universities today. As sneaky as ever, Mandlesnake has slipped out this news two days before Christmas: after all the 'real', elected MP's have gone home and while the entire country is in 'crisis', buried in 2 inches of slush.

Mandleson's little Christmas present to the Universities is a huge cut in their budgets for 2010. Yup. Those same universities that struggled this year, that couldn't take on all the students wanting to attend, will get 135 million pounds less to play with next year.

And that cut is in addition to the 600 million pounds of mythical 'efficiency' savings for 2012 already dumped on the Universities in Badger Darling's PBR.

But don't worry, Uni's, Mandy's got some ideas. Some ideas on how you can do better. Better than you've managed in the hundreds of years for which you've existed. Much better - this is the NuLab way, see?

The Foy Boy's main suggestion - actually, more of an order really - is that Universities provide:

"..more programmes that are taken flexibly and part-time and that a learner can access with ease alongside their other commitments,

Oh for flying, flaming, fuck's sake. A degree is supposed to indicate that some effort has been made. That there was some commitment, possibly even - heaven forbid - some sacrifice. It shouldn't be possible to get a degree in the spare moments between cold calls in your day job.

Not content with that simpering idiocy, Manders also dictates that he wishes to see:

“..programmes such as foundation and fast-track degrees, that can be completed full-time in two years"

Oh yeah. Fucking genius. After all, in this age of instant gratification, 3 years is a long time to have to wait for a degree, isn't it? In fact, even 2 years sounds a bit of a slog. Why not make it a couple of weeks? Dear God.

Get this straight, Mandy: if you can get a 'degree' in two years, it’s not a fucking degree is it? It's some other, simpler, qualification, isn't it?

Why is it that the fucking socialists can only achieve the 'fairness' that they bang on and on about by dragging everyone down to the lowest common denominator? By setting the hurdles at two inches, so everyone can jump them?

In their tiny 'all-shall-have-prizes' minds, everybody must a have a 'degree' from a 'university'. So they have to achieve this misguided target by calling every single further education institution a fucking university and every single poxy qualification a degree.

Oh dear god, why? Why are we letting these fuckwits ruin our once world-renowned University system?

This is getting close to an emergency. Some Universities have been around for literally hundreds of years, providing valuable, meaningful qualifications to hard-working students. In just 12 short years, the idiots in government have managed to undo all of this.

If these cuts, and these directives from High Lord Mandelson, go through next year, they will have achieved their aims. There'll be 20th Century degrees, achieved through 3 years of hard slog. And there'll by 21st century degrees, 'accessed with ease' by call centre workers in their spare time. And the old ones will be worth about ten new ones. Brilliant.

The nation has been able to forget its woes, ignore the freezing weather and celebrate joyfully, at the wonderful news that .. err .. there are going to be three televised debates between Messrs. Brown, Cameron and Clegg. Hurrah!

Or, perhaps more accurately, meh. What a total waste of fucking time.

The TV companies - BBC, Sky and ITV are doubtless rubbing their fat, well-manicured hands with glee at the extra viewers - and extra revenue - these 'historic' events will bring.

Boy, are they in for a surprise.

Do you know what, guys? Not as many people as you might think are going to be keen to sit and watch three middle-aged men in expensive suits lying to each other. No, really.

The few that might will be turned right off the idea by the endless gravelly-voiced adverts which will be pounded into our skulls for fucking weeks beforehand: "Coming soon. For the first time in British History ...". You can hear it now.

The debates themselves will, of course, be virtually devoid of content, and utterly meaningless.

Brown will be dosed to the eyeballs with a cocktail of drugs, and his script will have been crafted carefully by a vast team of writers.

He's never been recorded as having answered a question put to him, and this won't be the occasion he starts, will it? He'll read out an enormous list of supposed Labour achievements, followed by a shorter list of lies about what the eevil Tories plan to do, then his mouth wil slump open, and we'll all be none the wiser.

CallMeDave will look very shiny, and will bang on about boom 'n' bust, and perhaps slip in a mention of his wind turbine. But guess what, CMD? We've heard all that before.

The boy Clegg will work himself into a lather of fake-indignation about something - Iraq, or Joanna Lumley's little chums, or something Vince told him about banks that he doesn't really understand, and find himself trapped in a single issue with nothing else to add. The two other leaders will probably starting chatting to each other while he's speaking.

And, then, when the bovine public have watched this tedious festival of soundbites, what will they do?

Imagine if one of these talking heads actually did impress someone? "I like that nice Mr Cameron, I'm gonna to vote for 'im".

Well, dear voter, unfortunately you can't just press the Red Button on your Sky remote. That won't cast a vote this time.

And no, Ant 'n' Dec won't be popping up with an 0800 number for you to phone either.

Did you think you should text the word 'CallMeDave' to the BBC? No, that won't work either. There's only one way to vote in this particular piece of reality TV.

What you've got to do is make sure your name is on something called the electoral register, and keep a safe hold of the postcard that was sent to you and then, on the day that .... Hello? Hello?

As what historians will note was one of the worst decades in the history of this once-great-nation draws to a close, various awards and accolades must be distributed.

One prize, not cherished by its recipient, but certainly in need of delivery, should be for the Most Egregious Parliamentary Trougher

CF thought he already knew the shortlist for this award but the Daily Telegraph has just, in the dying minutes of the game, brought to his attention a new contender.

Irene Adams became a Labour MP in 1990: when her husband, MP for Paisley North, died she took over. Her daughter and son-in-law were Labour councillors, who we also paid to work in her constituency office. So, an MP, married to an MP and employing family party members. It's a safe bet Ms. Adams knew her way around the expense system, eh?

In June 2005, she got the reward that all good, compliant Labour MP's can expect, and was 'elevated' to the Lords. The new Baroness Adams of Craigielea got off to a slow start, and eventually made her maiden speech in February 2006.

Since then, she has been diligently claiming every single expense to which she knows she is 'entitled', making her the second most expensive peer in the Lords last year.

In all, she's managed to lay her greedy, clammy hands on over 200,000 pounds of our money.

But here's the rub. Ask what she has done for us while pocketing all that money. Since her well-received Maiden speech back in early 2006, what has she said in the Lords? What issues has she raised, what wrongs has she righted? What, in short, has she said?

Baroness Adams has not made a single speech, not said a single word, in the House of Lords since February 2006.

For fuck's sake. Two hundred fucking grand of our money, and she's yet to turn in a single piece of homework.

Is she shy, for fucks sake? Unlikely - she was an MP for 15 years. No, like all troughers, she's all about the rewards, and fuck the effort.

Jacqui 'Jackboots' Smith was (and still is) a greedy, dishonest, througher, and quite happy to lie about where she lived to get her trotters on more cash, but at least she turned up for work from time to time.

She might have said the most fuckwitted things imaginable, and been the worst Home Secretary ever, but at least the stupid woman tried to do her fucking job, woefully incompetent though she was at it.

But not even this from Baroness Adams.

While she doesn't seem willing or able to speak in the House, surely she'll have a detailed account of her activities to share with us, a rebuttal of these claims? Let's her speak, to prove she still can, eh? What have you got to say for yourself, Baroness?

Well, when the Telegraph tried to speak to her yesterday, she apparently declined to answer questions. She did howeverm make a speech. It was just a very short one. Here it is, in its entirety:

“I’m not interested.”

What the fuck? The fucking arrogance dripping from those three words. How dare you dismiss us loftily with a three word speech?

So, the Copenhagen COP15 climate summit has ended in confusion, disarray and total lack of agreement. What a surprise.

And what of our beloved non-elected leader? The man who announced that he had "50 days to save the world"?

He appeared, threw billions of our money about, boasted that he'd beat everyone else's cuts, and desperately searched the corridors and cupboards for the man he loves, Obama Beach.

But then, when everything began to unravel, what did he do? When five of the major nations got together to fling together a compromise, who represented us?

Nothing and no-one.

As ever, when Brown realised there was going to be no glory in this for him, he lost interest. When he became aware that there was no chance to make the Tories look bad, he couldn't see the point any more.

When it looked this conference was going to fail, what did Gordon "courage" Brown do?

Paul Clarke has finally been sentenced. According to the Surrey Mirror, the local paper that first broke the news of the case, he's been given a suspended sentence of twelve months.

And the #paulclarke tag on Twitter has come alive, albeit in a somewhat one-sided fashion. It would seem that the early tweeters feel that Mr Clarke should consider himself .. err ... lucky to have got off so lightly.

What? Fuss over nothing? A man is arrested, spends time in a police cell and is then given a criminal record, and that's 'nothing'? Really? Oh well, perhaps we should get back to X-factor then?

@Niaccurshi tweets:

"#PaulClarke gets a suspended sentence and so is effectively let free. This case has become the perfect example of a good system working well"

Pardon? A good system? Working well? Are you taking the piss?

A man hands in a gun at a police station and is promptly arrested? That's 'good'? He's eventually given a criminal record? Is that 'good'? Should we all get criminal records following any misunderstanding with the police? Just to teach us to behave better next time? Would that be a good system?

Wouldn't a truly good system have told him not to be so daft in future and sent him home from the police station months ago? It would certainly have been a better use of taxpayers money.

What about the debate as to whether this is a crap law? Should limited liability apply to such an offence? Sod it. Who the fuck cares? 'Nothing' to worry about here.

What about the CPS's decision to proceed? Was that in the public interest? Oh, don't worry, Paul Clarke is 'effectively free'. He might have a criminal record, but that probably serves him right, somehow, eh?

What about Clarke's allegations that the police had been harassing him? That his house had been 'turned over' 5 times? That a warrant card had been planted in his house, for which he was threatened with arrest? Should we forget all that 'fuss' now, and get on with the Christmas telly schedule?

What about Clarke's statement today that he was sleeping with one of the female officers at the very same station, and that he was worried that "jealousy" may have been a factor in his harassment? Should we be concerned about the integrity of the police involved, or should we be content to wonder whether or not it will snow on Christmas day?

These tweeters are the worrying vanguard of the many who think, and who have frequently stated, that Paul Clarke was "dumb". That he did a "stupid" thing.

Well, yes, maybe. You could debate that.

But should 'dumb' people, who do 'stupid' things be given a criminal record?

According to the - apparently mindless - court of public opinion it would seem, yes.

Radio 4 featured the story on the Today programme this morning, the potential major miscarriage of justice being deemed nearly as interesting as the temporary retirement of an old Irish DJ.

Diligent listeners will have picked up on an extra piece of information on this sorry tale. CF had already been told of this rumour, but specifically asked not to pass it on. It's highly relevant.

Paul Clarke claims that he had been harassed by the police for some time before the shotgun incident, and that his house had been 'turned over' by the police on no less than 5 separate occasions.

On one occasion, claims Clarke, an officer had left a warrant card there, later returning and threatening him with arrest for the possession of it.

Bloody hell. That changes things, just a bit, doesn't it? Gives us a better insight into the feelings between Clarke and the police, certainly.

So, in a climate of police oppression, where you'd already been threatened with arrest for possession of something that was - either accidentally or deliberately - 'planted' on your premises, what would you do if a shotgun suddenly appeared in your garden?

Would you follow exactly the police official guidelines, the only 'legal' option, and ring 999 immediately? If you were Paul Clarke, who'd had 5 visits to that house already that year?

Would you 'phone the police - the same police you might suspect put it there in the first place - and tell them you had a gun? Would you? In the circumstances Clarke was in, with the history he had?

Here we go again. Sir Liam Donaldson, a man whose job title should be Witchfinder General, but who actually calls himself the nations 'Chief Medical Officer', is giving us all the benefit of his opinions.

Apparently, we've all - yet again - been bringing our kids up all wrong. By letting them try alcohol before they're eighteen - even though it is completely legal to do so - we're launching them into a lifetime of alcoholism.

That little sip of Daddy's wine at Christmas lunch is just the gateway into a world of piss-stained trousers, missing teeth and cirrosis of the liver.

Oh yes. According to Doctor Nanny, letting children taste alcohol is "misguided", and that evidence shows that this could lead to binge drinking in later life. Nanny's mouthpiece, the BBC, has the whole story.

The smell of bullshit heightens as Sir Liam trots out the traditional line: "The science is clear". Oh yeah? You mean some research - doubtless commissioned by you - has reported some finding that you are able to extrapolate to support your wildly fascist views?

Warming to his theme, Sir Liam described the idea of a glass of watered-down wine for a child as a "middle-class obsession".

But Liam is adamant. We're misguided. We don't know what we're doing. We need to be told. We need guidance.

So guidance there will be. New official guidance, that says under-15s should drink no alcohol, with under-17s drinking "only under supervision".

And with the guidance - as always - comes the brainwashing. There's to be a "major publicity campaign .. which will get under way in January 2010". Oh for fuck's sake.

So we can expect our fucking money to be squandered on a load more tedious, patronising 'adverts' to tell us how to behave, can we? Fucking great.

Jeremy Todd, chief executive of the parenting charity Parentline Plus - and what the flying fuck is a 'Parenting Charity', other than another sink for taxpayer's money to be pissed into? - joined the mindless chorus of approval.

"Parents can have a huge influence on their child's drinking choices .. Whilst parents have a greater influence on their children's drinking patterns early on, as they grow older their friends have a greater influence.

No shit, Sherlock? How many millions has it cost us for you to work that out?

You know what guys? We're not going to take the slightest notice of your latest fuckwittery. If we want to offer our kids a glass of wine, or a taste of whatever we're drinking then guess what? We fucking well will.

If you want to control us, to dictate how we behave, 'official guidance' and publicity campaigns won't do. You're going to have to pass legislation, make it illegal for us to do those things you dislike so much.

The BBC runs one of the biggest, sprawlingest websites out there on the interwebs. There's something for everyone. Including a section with African-centric news 'n' debate, presumably for .. err ... African readers.

Now, over there in Africa, the Ugandan Parliament are currently debating homosexuality and the laws that pertain to it. And pretty fucking grim and scary the debate is too. There is talk of the death sentence for certain homosexual 'offences'. Bloody hell.

Clearly, this needs reporting to the wider world, and the BBC has done so. In addition, the BBC 'Africa Have Your Say' section has invited its readers to debate the subject online. Under the somewhat evocative headline "Should homosexuals face execution?‘ it says:

"Yes, we accept it is a stark and disturbing question. But this is the reality behind an Anti-Homosexuality Bill being debated on Friday by the Ugandan parliament which would see some homosexual offences punishable by death.

"Has Uganda gone too far? Should there be any level of legislation against homosexuality? Should homosexuals be protected by legislation as they are in South Africa? What would be the consequences of this bill to you? How will homosexual ‘offences’ be monitored? Send us your views."

Now that's gonna be a lively debate, eh? Somewhat one-sided, perhaps, in that only a handful of nutters will be for the 'ayes', but a highly relevant one, and one well worth having.

You might think so. But the London-based, not-at-all-African, left wing, hand-wringing, 'I find that offensive' brigade would beg to differ.

They don't think there should be any discussion on this. They're appalled the BBC should even attempt to start the debate.

Of course being of the left, the relentlessly Authoritarian Left, they cannot resist dictating to the rest of us how we feel - how we must feel - about this.

Soho Politico has even written the protest letter that we must all send to the BBC. And what phrases are therein!

"That the BBC would invite readers to deliberate the merits of murdering gay people is not merely offensive: it is also profoundly irresponsible.."

"..the policy proposal at issue here – the state sponsored killing of gays.."

"..BBC unmistakeably implies that the belief that gays should be killed is a reasonable one for people to hold.."

".. the debate can only encourage people to believe that homophobic violence is justified."

To which the only possible response can be, what a load of fucking hysterical, histrionic bollocks that is.

What an absolute massive, unbelievably tendentious misrepresentation of the situation.

To read the outpourings of these gasping, panting, swooning offence-monkeys, you'd think that the BBC had announced that they were planning to hold a gay-hunting safari, rifles provided. For fuck's sake.

They offered a debate. To Africans, some of whom may well be affected, not to Islington.

Now, before you start, clearly any laws that 'punish' homosexualty would be repugnant in the extreme.

But is the best way to spread the news, and to prevent such laws being passed, to shriek hysterically about the BBC's coverage of them?

What did the nation do, what did the poor bloody Army, Navy and Air Force do to deserve Bob bloody Ainsworth as Defence Secretary?

Seldom can any Cabinet post been held by a man of such astonishing ineptitude. And to make it worse, the hand that is firmly wedged up his arse, working him like the hopeless puppet that he is, belongs to our woeful and unelected Prime Minister. A fuckwit directing another fuckwit.

This has long been a disastrous situation, but yesterday the Fuck Up dial was twisted so violently to 'Full on' that it snapped off.

The Brown-Ainsworth axis has absolutely fucking excelled itself this time.

But, they add, lowering their voices and looking shifty, we're .. err ... going to have to make massive cuts - well, actually, more massive cuts - in .. err ... just about every other area to pay for 'em.

And why exactly do we need to cut just about everything else to fund this political showboating? As Liam Fox, the shadow defence secretary, pointed out

“The new Chinook helicopters are of course welcome, but this decision would not have been necessary if the Prime Minister had not, against all advice, cut £1.4bn from the helicopter programme in 2004.”

But of course he did, Liam. He couldn't give a toss about the Forces. Didn't when he was Chancellor, still doesn't now.

Broon may well have gone on a lovely sleepover with them a few days ago, and tried on some of their hats, and he may well have bullied Ainsworth into providing these choppers, but that’s not because he gives a shit. Oh no.

That's because he's got a General Election coming up. Because he wants to give CallMeDave Cameron a hard time in every way possible.

So he makes Bobby sprinkle the promise of a few helicopters, just in time for Christmas. But what's the other hand doing? Why, cuts of course: an air base closed, an entire Harrier squadron scrapped, a reduction of 2,500 in the number of military personnel. And more; much, much more.

Do you remember Badger Darling saying last week that he was going to ring fence spending on schools, hospitals and the police? Yes, he did. But not Defence. Defence wasn't mentioned. And, lo and fucking behold, a few days later, the cuts begin.

So, yet a-fucking-gain, we see this woeful, dying Government breaking new ground. Doing something that has never been done before. Just - as usual - not in a good way.

"..this is first time in modern history that the Government has raided the budget of the Ministry of Defence to fund a continuing military operation"

Air Chief Marshal Lord Craig, former chief of the defence staff, is not impressed:

“By cutting the fast jets again, the Government is reducing our ability to establish air superiority .. It doesn't matter how many helicopters you have if the other side is able shoot them down freely.”

“Does the Government think we're never again going to come up against an enemy with air power?"

Sir Malcolm Rifkind, former Defence Secretary himself, thinks

“.. It is deeply dangerous, never happened in the past and has the most ominous implications for the integrity of our armed forces.

Andrew Brookes, a former RAF commander doesn't think much of the Broon 'n' Bob idea either:

“If you cut back the premier league capability of the UK forces in order to just win a counter insurgency campaign against the Taliban, which has no air force and has no tanks and has no warships, when you finally do pitch up against a state that has those capabilities you could seriously end up losing a conflict"

So Bob, very well done. Your place in history is assured. You've fucked everything up.

But the best bit, the biggest piss take, the most audacious trick-we're-not-supposed-to-spot is that - oh, by the way guys - these fucking helicopters won't actually be ready until "at least" 2012. What?

Assuming the usual ineptitude, the standard levels of fuckups, the 'normal' delays, the helicopters won't actually be in service until 2013.

And guess what? According to Gordo', the poor sods who haven't already come home in a wooden box will be coming home then anyway.

Once again, the evil law-monkeys Carter Ruck have got a media organisation - this time the mighty BBC - exactly where they want 'em, bent over and braced to squeal like a piggie.

According to the (admittedly usually execrable) New Statesman, Carter Fuck have bullied Newsnight into removing all reference to their investigation into the Trafigura story from its website.

Now, we've all talked about the Trafigura - or #trafigura as the tweetsphere calls it - scandal before, haven't we? Carter Fuck failed to gag the Grauniad over this shocking case, and there's no reason to think they won't fail again here.

They probably know that, but the authoritarian urges die hard, especially when you're being paid five hundred fucking quid an hour to indulge them.

So, here's the video Tragiura and Carter Fuck would rather you didn't see..

If you have a blog, post it there too. If not, bring all your mates round here. Tweet this URL, along with #trafigura. Let's make sure everyone sees this.

Don't worry, BBC: if you're going to bottle out, the blogosphere will pick up the load. Again

Right up until he slithered across the floor of the House of Commons. At which point he suddenly realised that Gordon Brown was actually

.."a leader I have always greatly admired, who I believe is entirely straightforward, and who has a towering record"

Rank fucking hypocrisy and cynical self-interest, anyone?

And just look at him. He looks like a troughing, over-entitled pig. And guess what? He is a troughing, over-enititled pig.

This is the man who wants us to give him 20,000 fucking quid to repair his Bell Tower. The Bell Tower on his enormous fuck-off stately home.

Mr Davies trotted down to the BBC this morning, to defend his tattered reputation on the Today Programme.

Waving his trotters in agitated fashion, the pig with two faces insisted he had done nothing wrong in claiming on expenses for repairs to his house which has a bell tower, describing the row over the claim as a joke.

"It's such a silly thing ... because it's all a joke. We all know I haven't done anything remotely wrong," he said.

Oh we do, do we? 'We' all 'know' that do we, you thieving bastard?

You think if you say that often enough, we'll believe it? Who do you think you are, Derren fucking Brown?

Asked if he had considered his position when the claim was revealed, he said: "You must be absolutely joking"

No we're fucking not, Quentin. We do think you should resign. Then shoot yourself, you thieving git.

All weekend we've been hearing noise about how Gordon's going to 'turn up first' to the conference, ahead of all the other world leaders, like some sort of snot-nosed school swot trying to impress the teacher.

Is that because, as boy Milliband claims

"it's a sign of the seriousness with which he takes this issue" ?

Nah. Its just another piece of pathetic "saved the world" showboating from a man who knows he's got an unwinnable General Election barrelling towards him.

But as with everything Jonah touches, this little PR stunt has already gone wrong.

Another Senior Civil Servant, who was 'there at the time' (so many were, so many said fuck all) has taken the chance to say what he really thinks about the loathsome and oleaginous Tony B Liar, and his conduct over the Iraq war.

This time it's Sir Ken Macdonald, Director of Public Prosecutions while Blair was (remember those days?) our Prime Minister.

Pulling no punches, Sir Ken has accused Blair of "sycophancy" towards Washington, which

"..turned his head and he couldn't resist the stage or the glamour that it gave him"

Ouch. That much was obvious to all of us. So entranced was the boy Blair that he was happy to collude with that other slack-jawed , credulous fucking imbecile, Gee Dubya Bush, to kick off a war just for the hell of it:

"Blair engaged in an alarming subterfuge with his partner George Bush and went on to mislead and cajole the British people into a deadly war they had made perfectly clear they didn't want, and on a basis that it's increasingly hard to believe even he found truly credible."

Pow! But surely, Ken, Tone has made it all good in that now-traditional Labour party statement venue, the Breakfast television sofa? He bravely went up against the terrifying, visceral political heavyweight .. err.. Fern Britton, to set straight the record, didn't he? Surely no politician unsure of his ground would volunteer for such an intense grilling?

Sir Ken is not impressed.

"This was a foreign policy disgrace of epic proportions and playing footsie on Sunday morning television does nothing to repair the damage."

"Since those sorry days we have frequently heard him repeating the self-regarding mantra that 'hand on heart, I only did what I thought was right’. But this is a narcissist's defence and self-belief is no answer to misjudgement: it is certainly no answer to death."

Crunch! Well said, Sir Ken! Get in there, boy!

Blair is due to give evidence in the New Year to the Chilcot inquiry into the war, and with so many people suddenly recovering both their memories and their tongues, he could be in for a rough ride.

To think, just a few short weeks ago there was serious talk that this nasty, oily turd was to become President of all Europe. Now it almost looks like he could be damned as the total fucking disgrace he's always been.

But he won't be, will he? This is like the end of an improbable James Bond movie. Just when you think there's no escape from the impossible situation, with heavily-armed enemies closing in from all quarters, the counter flashing frantically into single figures and the laser beam only inches from the left testicle.

You blink, reach for some more popcorn, and when you look back, James is somehow free, fifty miles away and having a shag in a bath tub floating just off Antigua.

Faced with the continuing repercussions from the worst PBR yet, the latest set of fatuous MP's expenses claims, the endless freezing fog and the horrendous spectre of the X-Factor (whatever that is) final, CF has done the only sensible thing possible and fled the country.

Here in Vienna, the air is crisp and still, patches in the sky are deep blue and there's a rumour of snow.

And the Austrians seem to labouring under some kind of massive misapprehension regarding Christmas. Or at least, "Xmas" the Brit' way.

There are no vivid electric blue flashing lights, just softly twinkling white ones.

Ther are no shiny inflatable cartoon reindeer, no hilarious Santas abseiling from rooves, and no gigantic trains made of light bulbs.

People are wrapped up well, strolling through the Christmas Market, buying small handmade gifts. Not brawling in their shellsuits outside Toys 'r' Us over the last 'Tickle me Elmo'.

According to the Evening Standard, from now on cyclists - bless 'em - are to be allowed to ignore one-way streets. Yes, you heard right.

They can just zip up and down them in whatever direction takes their fancy.

Funny. CF was under the impression that even prior to this joyous new dawn, most cyclists did pretty much what the fuck they wanted anyway.

Living in Cambridge, and working in London, CF has ample opportunity to see many, many, cyclists in action every day, and their fuckwittery frequently beggars belief.

Cycling on the pavement, cycling across zebra crossings, cycling in the gutter on the wrong side of the road, cycling the wrong way around roundabouts, and doing all of the above after dark without lights.

That's just an average day for some of these death-wish imbeciles. Going the wrong way down a one street is trivial by comparison.

The only time you'll find a cyclist traveling down the correct side of the road, following the flow of traffic, is when they're studiously avoiding the vast, wide, dedicated fucking cycle path just beside that stretch road. No, CF doesn't know either.

So now, we're giving them the right to ignore traffic signs. Dear God.

Oh Darling. What the fuck is the point of creating this new tax? It raises - in the grand scheme of the money you've pissed up the wall - virtually fuck all. This is just more kneejerk, populist, mainstream-media driven bollocks, is it not?

Although actually, Darling, this probably wasn't your idea at all, is it? No. We can guess where this little gem originated.

You're unfortunate enough to have for a boss the most resentful, spiteful, jealous and embittered man ever to enter into politics. There's no doubt that this envy-driven idea came straight from his fucking nasty little mind.

So, Darling, why didn't you grow a pair and tell him where to shove this ridiculous fucking idea?

Or, if you daren't do that for fear that growing balls will just get you replaced by Balls, why not ask McBroon to think about the detail of this utterly fucking unworkable idea?

Ask him: to whom does this tax apply, exactly? What is a 'Banker'? Is this anybody in Financial Services? What about a senior manager in a Retail bank, not involved in the crisis? Do they get hit? What about Merchant Bankers?

What about Hedge funds? Do the managers get taxed? They each make millions. But not always in 'bonuses'. How will you tax them?

What about senior people in the Insurance industry? They play with huge sums on the markets, and make huge bonuses, but they're not 'bankers'.

What about the traders on the trading desks in the treasuries of enormous corporations, who trade solely to hedge against price movements in the commodities they sell? Do you even know about them? BP has a large trading desk, and the traders are paid bonuses, but they work for a fucking oil company. Do they get taxed?

What about all those organisations that support trading and provide liquidity? What about Soft Brokers? What about 'Locals' on exchanges? What about Asset Management companies? Do you even know what the fuck those things are?

And what, exactly, do you think you will be taxing?

If bonuses are deferred over several years - as you wanted - will you only tax the tiny bit vesting in year 1? Because this is only a 1 year tax, isn't it? So won't you tax the rest? Have you even fucking thought about that?

The banks are supposed to pay bonuses in stock, aren't they? How will you tax the stock? Will you mark it to market? At what point? Or will you tax on nominal purchase price? If you do, who sets that?

Those are just a few of the questions you need to ask Gordo, Darling.

He won't know any of the answers, and nor will you. That's because this is not a sensible financial plan: it's a little bit of jealous footstamping, and a pathetic fucking populist sop.

Pretty harmless, you might think. Childish, but no lives lost. Mild case of tosser, but he may well recover.

But no.

Not to those sad, pointless fuckwits whose entire empty lives are defined by their hatred of 'The Tories', 'Old Etonians' and especially Boris himself, a Tory Old Etonian.

One of them decided to - anonymously, of course - complain. Or rather 'A complaint was lodged', as these po-faced nasties like to put it. The complaint was 'referred to the GLA panel'

The committee 'decided not to take the matter further' and (here comes the science tedious part):

".. opted for a letter of guidance from City Hall's deputy chief executive, Jeff Jacobs, to the mayor highlighting the clause that stipulates that "when using or authorising the use by others of the resources by your authority, ensure that such resources are not used improperly for political purposes"

Blah Blah. Boris got a bollocking for wasting time on Twitter.

The Grauniad, always happy to spread bad news, as long as it involves a Tory, headlined this as:

"Johnson receives formal warning after using Twitter for party purposes"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the fence, Kerry McCarthy, @kerrymp as she is (for a couple more months) known, Labours official 'Twitter Csar', has had a lot of harmless fun on Twitter.

Hilarious career Geordie and professional randomer Ross Noble encouraged his mindless 'followers' to Tweet @kerrymp some questions. And the game girl didn't back down:

"The Bristol East MP announced she would try to reply to as many of the tweets as possible, and over six hours answered more than 100 questions.

"Asked if she would wear a gorilla suit to parliament, she replied: "I don't think it's expressly forbidden, I could give it a try?"

Oh, what larks!

But hang on, Guardian. Isn't there a teeny, tiny contrast in the reaction we're 'supposed' to have to these two stories?

Boris is abusing and squandering resources with his single tweet, whereas Kerry is just such huge fun with her 100+ tweets.

Very slight whiff of hyprocrisy there? Perhaps?

And what's even odder? What highlights the tiny imbalance? These two stories are not just in the same paper, not just on the same day, not just on the same page, but both in the same fucking piece.This piece.

So many people now want to wring their hands about that terrible climate change, and its effect on the poor, poor, polar bears, that they're having to use a whole town to get together in.

The lucky town is wonderful Københaven, where tens of thousands of wailing tree-huggers, disreputable scientists, opportunistic politicians and slack-jawed luvvies are gathering, to wind each other up to fever pitch.

But these big conferences take money. Lots of money. And polar bears, lovable though they are, don't have a whole heap of cash.

And what a glittering array of climate lovin' sponsors there are. The full list is on the COP15 official website, but to save you trailing your carbon footprints all the way over there, here are some of the better known:

What? Would that be the BMW makes all those eevil motor cars? The BMW who owns Rolls Royce, and with them produces a car that has a 6.75 litre V-12 engine and struggles to do 11 poxy miles per gallon? That BMW?

What the fuck? DHL: the company that runs an absolutely fucking enormous fleet of vans and motorbikes and .. wait for it ... over 350 aeroplanes?

The DHL that will happily courier three sheets of A4 paper right across the fucking world for the right price?

Really? And who else?

Eh? The Mercedes Benz that made every single smoke-belching taxi on the streets of Lagos, Nairobi and any other African town? The company that makes all the massive limo's that ferry 'very important' people about?

Mind you, Mercedes stand to benefit hugely from this conference. When the wealthy nations drop their billions of guilt-dollars onto the developing countries that have been whining about the effects of global warming, what's the very fucking first thing those countries' leaders will do? Yeah: buy themselves a fleet of big fuck-off shiny black Mercedes. Ironic? Nah, inevitable.

Now, who's this?

Pardon? Would this be the Volvo that makes the XC90, a car that weighs slightly more than the garage it's kept in, and costs nearly ninety quid to fill with gallons and gallons and fucking gallons of diesel?

The same Volvo that makes thousands of Marine engines every year, including the enormous engines that drive offshore powerboats? The sort of powerboats like the SeaRay, that consumes 36 gallons per hour. Per fucking hour. Them?

Anyone else want to sponsor this Climate Change worry-fest? Oh yes:

The Honda that not only churns out endless crappy, polluting rust buckets but - just to ice the not-very-green cake - makes the preposterously huge and thirsty engines for ... yup: Formula 1.

Yes, Formula 1, that ultra-green pursuit of driving extremely powerful cars round and round in circles to entertain the public.

And then, the crowning glory, the best of the best:

What the quite-literally-flying fuck? Scandinavian Airlines. What is it they do again? Do they make wellington boots for sheep that live near the coast? No. The clue is in the name.

They fly people from place to place, in gigantic metal tubes. They're recently flown tens of thousands of people into Denmark, so that they can all sit down and work out exactly where all that horrid co2 is coming from.

Perhaps, just perhaps, one of the sponsors might be able to tell them?

Iain Martin, over at the Wall Street Journal, has been listening to Gordon Brown's abject nonsense today, and he seems enthused to hear it:

"Thank goodness somebody is finally on the case. Apparently, and I know this is hard to believe, but there is “a culture of excess” in the public services. It seems it stretches back years, with extravagant pay settlements, gold-plated pensions and inefficient working practices.

Said the PM today: “Money which should be spent on health, schools, policing and social services is in some cases going on excessive salaries and unjustified bonuses far beyond the expectations of the majority of workers. This culture of excess must change and will change.”

"The prime minister looked pretty angry about it all, I can tell you. Indeed, he must be furious that the aforementioned excesses have been kept hidden from him. As a result, I suspect there will be quite a few senior people back in Whitehall with some pretty tough questions to answer.

There’s only one consolation. Thank heavens it’s all been discovered in the nick of time, before anything terrible happened. Like the U.K. deficit heading beyond £175 billion."

The Maldives government are worried about the nasty climate change monster submerging their islands. So worried, the President of the Maldives recently held a Cabinet meeting underwater - for fuck's sake - to draw attention to their supposedly soggy plight.

Nils-Axel Mörner is a scientist, a 'sea-level specialist'. He's been to the Maldives to investigate, not once but six times.

Guess what? He thinks the Maldives will be OK. Being a kindly sort of scientist, he's written to the President of the Maldives on several occasions to set him right. The President, perhaps miffed at being contradicted in his doom-mongering media stunts, has not replied.

Frustrated, Nils has now published an open letter, printed in the Spectator and reproduced over at the Coffee House.

You really should read the whole letter, but some of the tastiest extracts (with CF's emphases) include:

"Dear Mr President,

You are obviously very concerned about the effect that sea level rises may have on the Maldives .. you have even declared that ‘we are going to die’ if the climate change summit in Copenhagen fails. I am now writing with.. good news. The scientific side of the situation is quite different to that which you imagine. You are, in fact, not going to die.

The IPCC vision is a rise that by the year 2100 may amount to between 30cm and 50cm. This is based on model calculations. Our figure is a 5cm rise, plus or minus 15cm. In a newspaper article, you have suggested that sea levels may rise by between one and eight metres. Those figures, however, do not concur with the physics and known rates of ice melting. So those figures must be dismissed as impossible.

Impossible? Mr President must be pleased: his worst imaginings are impossible. Nils-Axel has been looking into things.

"I have been on no fewer than six different field expeditions to the Maldives. .. We have always found the same thing: a total stability for the last 30 years, preceded by a 20cm drop in sea level in the 1970s.

The people of the Maldives had no problems surviving the 17th century, which was 50cm higher than now. Nor the last century, where it rose by 20cm. This bodes well for their prospects of surviving the next change.

Well. Mr President must be feeling a bit foolish. All that panic for nothing. Or was it for nothing? Nils-Axel thinks it might have been for another reason:

"Could it be because there is money involved? If you inhabit a tiny island and can convince the world that its very existence is under threat because of the polluting policies of the West, the industrialised nations will certainly respond. The money is likely to flow in more quickly than the ocean will rise.

Surely not? Surely the President was pure in his motives, and worried only for his beloved people. In which case, Nils-Axel has good news:

"So, Mr President, you and your ministers in the Maldives really don’t need to worry .. You should pass on this message to the people of the Maldives. It is high time to release them from this terrible psychological burden."

Set his people straight. Let them stop worrying. Do you think Mr President will do that?

Class warrior John Prescott is big on equality. The sort of equality that the old left always like. The sort of equality achieved by dragging everyone down to the same fucking level, and keeping them there.

John's very upset about the fact that RBS wants to pay the bonuses it promised to its staff. He doesn't think 'failure should be rewarded'.

Clearly, Prezza's a spent force within the government, so he can't actually conjure up any knee-jerk legislation to prevent these bonuses being paid, which is the normal nuLab approach to anything that it doesn't like.

So instead, he's started yet another of 'his' (his son, really) ridiculous online campaigns : this time its the phrase 'Give Up The Bonus' that will be rammed down our fucking throats until we're sick of the sound of it.

He's also put a letter on the woeful and egregious Go Fourth site, a letter we're supposed to copy and send to RBS, urging them to renege on the bonus payments they've already promised.

But hang on a second. Aren't we talking about John Prescott, former Minister, former Deputy PM, here?

A man who failed at absolutely every-fucking-thing he did in government? A man who, as we all discovered earlier this year, spent taxpayers' money on huge amounts of food, which he then puked up into toilets also purchased by the taxpayer?

A man who has failed to deliver anything at all, other than a punch on the nose to a member of the public?

Surely a man we can expect to receive no bonus, no reward at the end of his career.

But no. We'd be wrong if we thought that, wouldn't we? As Guido told us back in may, he's been handsomely rewarded for his failure to deliver:

"When he was sacked as Deputy PM, for generally being an embarrassing incompetent, he kept hold of his pension perks – including additional pension contributions from taxpayers even though he wasn’t working for them. ... At the time opposition politicians railed at Prezza’s “rewards for failure”.

Even Labour MPs like Geraldine Smith were stunned; “I think it is outrageous that the Deputy Prime Minister loses his department but keeps his position, his salary and the perks of the job. It seems absolutely astonishing.”

Prezza’s pension pot makes him a multi-millionaire, courtesy of the taxpayers."

So come on, Prezza. You don't think failure should be rewarded, do you?

Unfortunately, CF is a little hungover this morning (drunken dinner with a confused Lib Dem PPC, an eeevil Banker and a millionaire property developer - but that's another story) and clearly the old brain cells are firing slowly.

Could somebody please, please explain - in less than one hundred words - exactly what the flying fuck the cartoonist is on about?

It's like looking at one of those 19th century cartoons from a GCSE History textbook.

Cambridge University is celebrating its eight hundredth anniversary this year. As part of the celebrations,the Empire State Building in New York will be lit with 3 million light blue bulbs today and tomorrow to mark the occasion.

On Monday, images of Cambridge University were broadcast across Times Square and a representative from Cambridge rang the NASDAQ closing bell.

Well done, those Americans. A celebration of everything this great institution has acheived. But why the fuck is this going on in New York?

Why are there not similar celebrations in our major cities?

Has our own beloved Prime Minister said anything about this? Is he joining these celebrations?

Has he scribbled one his famous marker pen letters to the 'Univercity of Kambridge', 'contragulating' them on their '8000th' anniversary? Of course he fucking hasn't

Will he be mentioning this in his next gurning, stuttering press conference? How proud he is, to lead a country containing one of the world's oldest and finest academic institutions? Not a fucking hope.

To Gordon Brown and his fellow class warriors in the rapidly sinking Labour Party, the University represents not achievement and ambition, but privilege and elitism.

In spite of having attended top Universities themselves, senior figures in the Labour party can't be seen to approve of any institution that has the temerity to select on merit, rather than the sort of 'fairness' they'd like to see.

They keep hammering away at Oxford and Cambridge, bullying and threatening them. They'd like these places to stop selecting only the best qualified students, and to start giving out places like free school dinners to the feral hoodies from the sink estates, who somehow 'deserve' them more than those who happen to have been at a very good school, either through luck or parental diligence. Every year, they push a fraction closer to this goal, and more threats are made, more 'targets' are invented.

But in the meantime, until Labour's class war is won, and every last person has been dragged down to the level of the laziest, the most feeble, the dimmest-witted, in the name of 'fairness' , these top Universities, these bastions of privilege just have to be ignored.

Fucking hellski, as certain party leaders might say. Did he really? That pretty much fucks the Labour 'toffs' attack line, doesn't it?

Well, hmmm, hang on a second. Has the news just broken that Ed Balls 'went to' Eton? No and no.

It hasn't just broken - this story was in The Times eighteen months ago, in June 2008. Not exactly 'breaking', eh?

And did he? Did he? Ooohh say he did. Did he? Did Ed Balls go to Eton?

Well, not really. What did Ed admit, mid-last fucking year?

"While my father was at the University of East Anglia he did a swap with a teacher at Eton ..For one term a master went to Norwich and we went to Eton

"I didn’t go to the school itself but another local [primary] one just for that term"

Now, Ed Balls is a loathsome git, and the Labour 'toff' policy is fucking pathetic and risible. But you know what? Guido's attempt is even worse.

Guido claims his blog is 'Libertarian' and that it will be just as critical of the Tories when they're in power.

A blog which is running this feeble, past-its-sell-by-date, distorted piece of Tory spin is not a Tory supporting blog? A blog which features podcast made by a man who's moniker is .. errr ... 'Tory Bear'?

Subrosa, self-declared "Dundee Wifey" has run an excellent blog for many months. In her own words, she blogged..

"..to help promote interest in independence for Scotland and to keep the Westminster government's misuse of our armed forces in the public domain."

But she must have offended someone. Today, she's posted her final post, and announced(update - the site's already gone) that she's giving up. Not through ill-health, or sudden ennui, but because:

"My identity has been exposed. Not only do the person(s) know my name they also know my full address .. why would any person .. go to the trouble of finding out my name and address for any other reason than malicious intent?

"[the person] is well known to be a great supporter of certain Scottish unionist bloggers or ex-bloggers"

What the fucking, fuckety fuck? Its very far from paranoid of Subrosa to assume that this shitbag wasn't after her address just to send her fucking Christmas card.

It's a safe bet that this information was sought as it's pretty much the only way to attack an anonymous blogger.

Bloggers can delete comments, ignore emails and carry on regardless, but to anyone who values their privacy - and security, if they've been outspoken - the threat of 'outing' is the ultimate deterrent.

And a highly effective silencer.

So now a good blogger, and a popular one - number 40 in Wikio - has to give up, is silenced, just becauses some twat doesn't agree with what she said.

Subrosa concludes her post:

"What has happened to me can .. happen to anyone. That's the risk we take as bloggers and especially one who has strong political views. It's a dirty, dirty world the world of politics right enough"

Mildly put; Subrosa never did use the swear words. Leave that to CF:

It's a fucking sordid shitheap, and some of the bastard cockroaches that live on it are beneath fucking contempt.

Let's look at the boy Blair. How did he make those millions? Unlike the Guardian, CF thinks its pretty fucking clear.

He spent his time as Prime Minister schmoozing, snake-oiling, lying and misleading. He then makes millions for writing a fucking book describing how he did it. There's a few bob for Tony's pockets.

He did whatever Dubya Bush told him to, at a time when Bush, even though he didn't know where the Middle East was, was pretty sure he wanted to bomb large parts of it.

By joining in enthusiastically with the bombing and the shooting, Blair somehow became a self-professed expert on the Middle East. Which led to all sort of exciting and lucrative jetting to Kuwait and the UAE. There's a heap of fucking money.

Because of Blair's unceasing worship at the temple of George W., many Americans just lurve Tone, and hang on his every syllable. So much so that Washington Speakers Bureau snapped him up as a star speaker with a £600,000 'signing-on' fee. And that's before he even opens his mouth. Every time he deigns to speak to starry eyed yankees, tens of thousands more cascade into this coffers. There's some more income.

He - or rather his missus - got some dodgy Australian conman to help them start on the property investment ladder. In spite of the outcry when this was discovered, the Blairs kept the properties.
Which were then rose massively in price owing to the gigantic housing bubble Blair and Brown were busily inflating. There's a load more wealth.

And in another massive irony, and another massive cash-grab, tax experts point out to the Guardian that:

"..Blair could use these unusual arrangements at some point in the future to seek to transfer millions tax-free to his four children. .. Family limited partnerships" were being publicized to lawyers and accountants in November 2007 at the time Blair's lawyers started to set up his structures.

"Known in the trade as "Flips", family limited partnerships are a way of getting round stricter inheritance tax rules in the 2006 budget, imposed by Gordon Brown while Blair was still prime minister."

So he'll be able to pass all of this on to his kiddies without bothering the taxman, and without helping to repay a penny of the billions he and his cronies have cost us.